Where no sound escapes unchallenged above the din
of too many wars, waged for profits that have no future.
Lost now, only darkness clutches, upon his demise.
Fables, told ‘round friendly fires, chant his name eternal.
Birds of the forest, and fish in the sea, remembered his kindness forever,
and slowed in silence, when spirits spread the news of his demise.
From eastern tongues, chants heard in midnight chapels,
aglow in reverent prayer ‘till daylight dawned,
and rows of fallen soldiers, white stones of his demise.
His friends who could not broach the musket….lift the water pail,
and scorned the day of distant guns, their path was lost.
The masters of the chase cursed not of his demise.
Tho centuries turn, the din still heard, fresh enemies forged,
repeat once more, while mothers weep, their cries unheard,
and planes come home to belch caskets, filled with his demise.
The fallen sing from distant stars, so bright for all to see,
with blending light, the truth never dies.
Behold the day when all will see the end of his demise.
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